Perfect
by Hwesta-the-Golden
Summary: A collection of almost-drabbles and one-shots, starting with the two-part set 'Perfect'. May be AU in later chapters.
1. The Golden Trio

A/N: Hello, Hwesta here with almost-drabbles that she wanted to put out into the world. This 'story' is just a collection of oneshots and drabbles, to be published in intermittently.

And now, the first half of "Perfect," a two-shot.

* * *

She looks at me, and I look at him, and for a moment, we're perfect.

In a moment there will be reporters and flashes, questions and crowds and too many people to manage, but now, in the peace of the hall, I can take her hand, and clasp his shoulder, and watch as they hold hands as well, and we become a circle of calm that has withstood the test of time and the pressure of death.

Behind is the shadow of the past. Death lingers in nightmares and dreams, and names that bear only grief in remembrance. Behind is danger, and fear, and anxiety, and pain – things that will exist in the future, but not as strong as they were. Never as strong.

Because now there is a future. Now, I see red hair and freckled noses and feminine hands and the promise of children, where before I saw only death and the slightest pinprick of light in the doubtful hope of a dawn. Now, I see my two closest friends embrace with confident movements and absolute trust, where before I saw tension and nervousness and desperation. I remember those few moments before I died, and my calm in the face of red eyes and a brown wand, and there is no comparison. Because then there was no hope. But now it fills the room like a glorious sunrise, this feeling, this joy, this perfection.

For a moment longer we stand next to each other, and then as one we turn to the door, ready to face whatever comes. There is nothing they can throw at us that we cannot weather, because together, we are strong. Undefeated.

Perfect.


	2. Snape

A/N: The second half of "Perfect."

* * *

Whomever says that darkness is its own reward clearly understood the nature of evil. For that is – was – the creature I served, and it was by that creature I was killed.

There were so many things I could have changed, and yet, when I reflect, with the infinite time that I can now reflect with, I cannot see any other outcome. I was always the greasy Potions professor; I was always the servant of the Dark Lord; I was always the antagonist to the Golden Boy of Gryffindor House. I accept that. I acknowledge it. I lived with and in that knowledge for twenty years.

But now, in the clarity of death, I see someone else in the dark eyes and black hair. I see a man who loved and lost, who made mistakes and tried to amend them in his own way. Without pity for myself I observe my care for Lily's son, and with some astonishment I realize that there were times I nearly risked my own life to save his. I see a professor who gained the respect of his colleagues, and a spy who worked for years without being recognized, and I see the love of a mentor by whose word I killed and by whose command I would have gladly died.

And in the last moments of my life, I saw compassion that I never imagined I would see again. In that moment, I was no longer Severus Snape. I was a dying man, who with his last breath asked to see the eyes of the one who would save us all, and I was given that gift and the knowledge that perhaps I would be redeemed.

For the first and only and last time in my life, I became something I never thought I would be, to the eyes of the one boy I had despised and loved as I never had before.

Because, in that last glimpse of the mortal world, I became perfect.


	3. Dumbledore

I know that I am not perfect.

I have made mistakes. I have treated those who trust me as pawns; I have loved when I should have stayed without emotion. I have over-assumed and under-assumed, I have trusted those who could not be, and I have mistrusted those who, above all else, should have had my loyal support. I have chosen favorites in my school. I have withheld information for the sake of withholding it, when it would have been much better for all involved to have shared my knowledge.

I see that now, and I accept that, for I cannot change what has already come and gone. It is outstanding, what one sees when one is dead.

"Albus?"

Turning, I take in the vibrant red hair and familiar green eyes of Lily Potter. I cannot meet her gaze. Death has reminded me of many things - things that I would rather have left forgotten, buried with the bodies of those that suffered from my mistakes. I think of her son, her secret-keeper, her husband, her husband's best friend. Of all the people I have wronged, she and her son have suffered the most...

"I am sorry. So, so sorry." Grief holds my heart. I weep without remorse, without bothering to hide my weakness.

The soft rustle of grass announces her movement, and I can just vaguely see her blurred shape through my tears. For a moment, she says nothing, and I wait for her condemnation.

Instead she takes my hand and places something in it.

A lemon drop.

"There is nothing to forgive," she whispers, and then she is gone, off to find her husband in the radiant sunlight of death.

I am not perfect, but I have seen how close a fellow human can get to perfection. And in the light of her eyes, I was perfect.


End file.
